How To Save A Life
by SeekerWitch80808
Summary: Nearly five years after Draco Malfoy left without a single goodbye to his childhood friend Hermione Granger he walks back into her life, to find her quite the opposite of the girl he left.
1. Breathe

_First, a few things I would like to address before I begin. Yes, this will be yet another story I've pushing through, and, is one I have written about three years ago, and just recently re-discovered it through one of my periodically irritating bouts of writer's block. Originally, it served as a traditional non-disney/Harry Potter fic, until I had another spark of idea to develop this further. Yes, this is an AU fic, some magic will be involved, but that will be for you to find out later, and there's some normality unfortunately, but it's something different and I think you will enjoy it. Second, yes I am also almost done with the fourth chapter of "The Perils Of Pansy Parkinson" and, another chapter to "Skinny Love" will be posted as soon as I get enough time to write it all out, and you can bet Merlin's underpants, these are lengthy, and detailed fics as it could be. As one of my friends Sean says, 'never Pansy out on the details.' Anyyyywhhhhooooo, I hope you enjoy this (:_

Chapter One

1995; Summer

Two-hundred, sixteen tiles. Two-hundred sixteen tiles, remained untouched by her delicate, artistic hands. Two-hundred sixteen tiles, were all that were left of the memories of him, and her broken childhood. Two hundred sixteen tiles, where she had almost lost the battle of her life with.

The light bags of her belongings fall to the floor, as well as she does, landing on her knees. Her hands find themselves on the floor, staring, feel the remains and ruins of her childhood bedroom. She shuts her toffee colored eyes softly, and sighs quietly in remembrance of what her room once was all too perfect. Perfect in the sense, it would have been ever little girl's dream dormitory to play pretend, and experiment with make-up, and racy attire, but instead of the wonderland it should have been, it had become something much darker than her mother could have imaged, when her belly was swollen with the young girl. The pastel pink and décor princesses serve as a solitary confine in which she had damned herself in once _he_ had left. The shabby four wall bed post and wide assortment of donated toys from the church up the road made her feel claustrophobic. The forty eyes of each doll staring at her at night, taunting, teasing her, just as the girls in Primary school had done were the fuel behind her anosmatic bouts. And, even the pastel pink color, which was supposed to comfort her with love, and warmness, only made her feel even more alone, depressed and hopeless of the whole she had dug herself into over_ him._

She cursed herself mentally for letting him ruin her into shambles of a girl she had once been, and being as foolish enough to believe that every word he said to her had been the truth. She cursed herself for thinking of someone who left her without a trace of thought, without even the common curtsey of a simple goodbye. She cursed herself for thinking of someone who would never love her back. She remembered every feature of his, the silky blond hair that was never once out of place, his steel eyes that seemed to take her breath away, and his smile that seemed to melt any pain that ached her heart.

A soft rhymatic rasp on her door snaps her out of her thoughts and force her eyes back open. She sniffles quietly, brushing away the few tears that seemed to escape her eyes, as she looks around. The pastel pink walls which clouded her memory faded were gone, and in its place were blank walls, splayed with bright yellows, oranges, and lavenders of her artistic freedom. The freedom behind the four walls she was confined to, during that summer holidays. Her voice behind the silence.

"Hermione?" The soft voice trembles as she opens the door.

The bushy haired girl whips her head back, and catches the soft smile behind the pain and worry evidently placed on her mother's aged face. Jean Granger, had once been the most beautiful woman, that Hermione had ever seen, and strived to be with. But, the beauty had faded just as Hermione's voice had, and in place of Porcelain, wrinkless skin was sickly pale and worry wrinkles all over her face. "Tea's up darling, I made your favorite, and popped some chocolate biscuits as well." Her mother signs in BSL, as if her hearing was impaired.

She wasn't disabled, just depressed.

"I also thought we could talk about seeing that therapist, in Manchester.." she adds in, pausing shortly after, unsure of the reaction she may receive from her silent daughter.

Hermione could feel her blood boil at the innocent suggestion, and the air become seemingly thicker. Her cheeks burn a furious scarlet hue as she scrambles quickly to her feet. Her toffee eyes no longer representing the loving and contentness she felt in herself, but burned black with rage, disgust and hatred. She felt like screaming at the top of her lungs at her mother's extreme ignorance at the real reason her daughter never spoke. The reason behind her insomnia, her nightmares and the constant emptiness that was ever so constants in her, that made her rot slowly inside and out.

Her hands reached up as she signed to her mother with such fury, you could barely make out the signs she was formulating "I told you a thousand times! I don't need any bloody help, you daft inconsiderate woman!" She flops her hands back down at her sides, and clutches onto her tote bag.

"Hermione, please! I'm sorry, I just think it'd help. Hermione, wait!" Her mother cries clutching onto her daughter, only to be shoved back and glared at with those wild almond glazed eyes.

"It's a little too late to save me now, Mother." Hermione signs, before racing down the staircase, and rushing outside into the cloudy day with tears streaming down her face.

~.~

The breeze hit her immediately as she hopped off the Number Four Knight bus, straight into Kingston. Hermione had never contained the urge to rush off the bus as badly as she had whilst a very chatty Mister Eggerheart tried to engage a converstation with a very mute teenage girl on the multiple reason he hated the youth. Clearly, he was ignorant to the fact that Hermione was quite younger than she had appeared, making her also question how terribly she had looked.

A shiver rushes down her spine, and the girl reaches to rub her arms to regain some warmth within her body once more. After a moment of suffering, she reached deep within her bag, and pulled out a dark violet jumper, given to many years ago by her now best mate Luna Lovegood. A small smile found its way onto her pale pink lips as she thought about the small, airy like blonde girl who she met when she entered her Secondary school a year behind the others.

_Hermione was quite small for a year seven, and quite too shy for most to connect with. She remembers her being introduced to her very zany art teacher introducing the girl to the class of other exceedingly talented young dancers, and artists. It made her heart ache with self-doubt as she looked around at the much prettier, tamed haired girls who could plié and twirl circles around the very amateur girl. She read deep into the dark glares from such bright eyes, snickers and whispers from the other girls doubting how talented Hermione could truly be considering she was accepted so late._

"_Miss Granger," Her very French dance instructor took a single look up and down at her, from the very used ballet shoes, to the hairs finding their way from sticking out of her tight bun."Find a spot on the bar besides Miss Brown."_

_The small girl obeyed her leader and found a place besides the only person who had not had someone behind her. A girl with a very flawless tight bun, and piercing sapphire eyes and a dark look on her face as she looked up and down at the smaller girl with disgust purely painted on her face._

"_First, begin to stretch out then, Miss Brown instructs Miss Granger on the current routine we are rehearsing for the upcoming showcase."_

_The taller girl smirks with all the attention given to her, clearly adding to her already popular status as a year two. Hermione quickly threw her leg gracefully onto the bar and began to stretch when her instructor barked at her peer._

"_Five, six, seven, eight!"_

_The girl moved with such elegance and near perfection, self-doubt burned with every inch of Hermione's body. An À la seconde, a triple spin, and finally a jump Hermione had never seen in her life.,How could her mother even assume that her talent was at the potential of girls who dedicated their lives since they were mere infants to the decadence of ballet, when Hermione only began the whimsical art when she was seven and a half. Lost within the thoughts of her self esteem, Hermione couldn't realize she stopped stretching. _

"_GRANGER!"_

_The girl whipped her head up and stares quite blankly at her instructor for a few moments before realizing what she wanted from her. She quietly dismounted, and took her place at the center of the stage, feeling sixteen sets of eyes staring down every inch of her, judging her every move, making her even more anxious than she already was. She took her foot and placed it gently forward, from the tip of her toes to the palm of her foot._

_Silence swept the room as she preformed À la seconde, so angelic like and delicately, it seemed as if she barely moved. Sweeping her foot across, and twisting her small wrist, she extended herself to reach past the tips of her small ballet shoed covered toes. Pushing herself, to the center again, the girl sighed and prepared to perform a jump she had never seen before._

_Determined to nail it, the girl closed her eyes, took a brief spring before hopping up, and in mid-air forcing her legs up into a perfect jette leap. Time seemd to slow as a grin crossed her face, and in focusing on her landing, her eyes briefly met with her peers and she watched the girl with sharp blue eyes smirk quite evilly as she mouthed "fall"._

_And that was exactly what she did._

_She tumbled like an inexperience beginner flat on her face onto the ground. Her cheeks burned a scarlet red, as she whimpers with pain and hears her peers rumble with laughter much to her embarrassment. As she looks back up, tears prickle within her toffee eyes as she makes a abrupt exit before anyone could coddle her with her mistake._

_She scolded herself as she reached the girls restroom on the first floor on how superiorly idotic she could be in defocusing on a make it or break it leap. More tears slipped down her cheeks as she looked within the mirror and shouted mentally insults of how she thought she could make in such a school beyond, and above her. _

"_You are a failure, Hermione Granger." The voice within her head whispers to her as she whimpers._

"_I don't think you are," The airy voice called out to her, causing Hermione to gasp, as the smaller girl came into view. Long blonde, messy ringlets following all the way down to her back, and a distant look holding in her bright eyes as if she was barely there Her dress rufled a bit and floating just barely above her knees, and her feet bare and exposed on the dirty floor.. "You spoke aloud, I'm 'fraid."_

_Hermione shut her eyes tightly, feeling her cheeks burn bright in embarrassment once more. _

"_Nothing to be ashamed about though, my dad says it's perfectly normal to talk to you, or so he tells me." The girl shrugs, and inches towards Hermione, and she has never felt more on full blast as she had in that moment. _

_She sighs in relief as she hears the tap run and the girl washing her hands. Hermione opens her eyes to find the porcelain white sink full of a rainbow of paint as the girl scrubbed it from underneath her fingernails and hands. "We all make mistakes, I remember when I was a first year here, instead of painting a forest as my professor would have preferred, I ended up getting lost within my imagination and drew a great wizard named Harry Potter defeating a dark, evil wizard named Voldemort., how bloody embarrassing." The girl giggled._

_Hermione stares at the girl whilst she wiped her hands filling her with midndless chatter, as if they knew each other for years._

_The girl thrust a tissue towards Hermione._

"_Thank you." She says quietly, the first words she spoke in a long time._

"_I'm Luna Lovegood by the way," She thrust her small hand forward._

_Hermione clasps it, and they shake hands slowly "I'm Hermione Granger,"_

Since that day on, Hermione and Luna became inseparable during their stays at their prestigious schools, and it was even Luna that helped Hermione discover her love for her art, and her vast amount of talent that lay hidden within her.

Hermione slips on the jumper, and begins her trek down the upscale neighborhood she once resided in before the many tragedies came ahead In her life. She had meant to drift so far out of the slums of London, and into the quiet, familiar upperclass suburbia of South Hampton. She just needed to get away from her mother, and the thoughts that were rushing back to her so quickly.

Rage burns within her at her mother's suggestion of therapy. How fucking daft could that woman fucking be? Was she too blind to see that the damage had been done and there would be no reoccuernce of the energetic, adorable, **HAPPY ** Hermione Granger.

Happy.

The word would forever just be a foreign concept for her. Happiness would be forever replaced with emptiness, she felt in her heart. The emptiness in which contented every fiber of her existence and threatened to drown her everyday.

She looks around at the streat which was so hauntingly familiar to her as a child, and walks over to the striking tall, still entact former home. Her hands ghosted over the grassy plains in which she could remember a younger version of herself, laughing, smiling, prancing with a small platinum blonde haired boy, with sharp gray eyes before everything had been ripped from under her when she was eleven..

Her stomach churn and her heart aches with frustration. How could a boy, whom she spent so much of her life with, seemingly disappear wholly from her life, without a single goodbye or a precaution of his departure. Hermione could remember all to well, hearing the words from his less than polite father that he was gone, the same day, she also found out her Nana passed in her sleep.

A whimper escapes her lips, and she tries to hold it in until she looks up to find the for sign brightly infront of her. Rage burns within every fiber of her being once again, replacing her hurt, and she watches as the sun fades from view, and dark storm clouds form under her, as if the Earth was co-existing her pain. Vicious wind began to billow aroud her.

How fucking dare her mother put her nana's old home up for sale, after all the memories it provided, and after Nana asked for her home never to be sold with God took her within his arms? Of course it was her fucking mother, she was Nana's only girl, sole owner of all things Nana had left to her, except her gold locket that was wrapped around her neck.

Furious beyond recognition with her own feelings, the girl rose away from the home she sought, tossed her bag over her shoulder, and forced herself towards the bus station. Her mother would hear her, the voice Hermione had been hiding for so long, would finally be heard once again. As Hermione stood in the mist of her angry thoughts contemplating about what she would say to her mother, she hadn't noticed that a small wallet had blew through towards her feet, and nearly tripped her.

She gasps, and growls at the inantimate object. She picks it up, opens it and gasps in di"sbelief at the ID card before her.

"_Draco Lucius Malfoy_

_918 Seeming Way_

_Wiltshire, England"_

"Oi, out of my bloody wallet you—" The deep voice growls as feet stop down towards her. She stands up, and locks wide toffee on steel eyes.

"He—Hermione?"

With a scatter of her feet, the wallet slips from her finger tips, and she rushes away hoping that what she saw couldn't have been real.

She just ran into the platinum haired boy. Her first love, and best friend Draco Malfoy.


	2. Shut Your Eyes

_**First off, the response from the first chapter was absolutely bloody brilliant! I am so excited to be starting with something else, and I'm so glad that my very dedicated readers and reviewers are taking such a strong liking to this little story here! Okay, so to answer a few questions that I've been receiving yes, this story will be slightly magically, Hermione is non-magical..cough cough, wink wink, and Draco is a wizard who will be attending Hogwarts as intended. No, Voldemort whatsoever to dull up the story, and just a peaceful, AU.. for now.**_

_**Sadly, I do not own anything, and this all belongs to my lovely brilliant queen J.K Rowling for creating such magical characters, that I have become just a tad bit obsessed with, I mean who doesn't love Draco Fecking Malfoy? ;)**_

_**Love, Nargles, and snitches,**_

_**SeekerWitch.**_

2. Shut Your Eyes.

Dread.

Regret.

Disgust.

Murder.

All of those words correlated within Draco Malfoy's mind as he departed the Hogwarts Express on platform 9 3/4 , and thought about returning home from a vigorous year of learning, and bullshiting for Summer Holidays. The dread, of the mere thought of returning to a life of isolation, or as most preferred to call home. (as if Draco could possibly ever call the cold, lifeless place of residence on one-hundred acres of desolate uninviting land.) The dozens of rooms on the property that belonged originally to his grandfather Abraxus Malfoy, constantly remained desolate as Draco struggled to draw in any of his acquaintances for a summer stay without a fear of going mad from being cut off from most of society, (though he couldn't really blame them, if he had a choice, he wouldn't stay either) besides his best friend and former girlfriend Pansy Parkinson who he shared summers, and beds with frequently due to their close family ties. He stares at the girl with shoulder length chopped black lock, her bright azure eyes covered by her large black kohl sunglasses, as she knocks back a vial of what Draco can only assume as a Hangover Cure.

This corresponded with Draco's following emotion to address, regret. Somehow, his mates Blaise Zabini, Harry Potter, and Theodore Nott convinced him into the moronic idea of throwing one last rager, the final hoorah, before they began the following semester as six years, and Draco would promptly be addressed as a prefect in the eyes of all others. Not only had the part gone absolutely smashing, (as Draco awoke, his arms entangled in the nude bodies of both Daphne Greengrass, and Tracey Davis, one of the most beautiful girls at Hogwarts, and Pansy's sidekick.) but, he nearly missed his train. And lastly, his final feeling rang louder than the bell of Notre Dame, his hangover was pounding mercilessly within his head and the loud uproar of people bustling amongst each other on Platform 9 ¾ made Draco want to cast an unforgivable on each and every soul that uttered.

"Merlin, don't people know how to fucking shut up?" Draco spits bitterly.

"Easy Malfoy," The pretty Slytherin murmurs, shoving a vial of extra Hangover potion within his face "Drink it, I'd prefer not to deal with a bloke on his menstrual."

Draco grumbles a slew of profanities at the smirking girl beside him, before knocking it back effortlessly. He instantly detects a chalky lemony taste on his sensitive tongue that makes him cringe in disgust at the recollection of having to taste test several of his godfather's potion making last summer. Being the godson of a Potion maker did have it's perks. Last summer, he managed to settle his toes away from the rainy plains of the warded Manor Property, and sink them deep within the white sanded beaches of Sydney. Okay, well, metaphorically speaking, since most of that summer he spent confided with the small apothecary hut, tending to the whimsical need of his godfather, whether it be stacks of desk work that needed to be signed and carefully read, owling shipments to both Diagon Alley, and St. Mundugo's, or helping create the simplest of Potions under the watchful eye of the Potion's Master. In all actuality, Draco had only set upon the Australian beaches thrice, (and none had unfortunately been to ogle, the long, tanned legs of Australia's beautiful witches) to collect the finest sand grains for a new potion Severus Snape had began experimenting with.

In all, it still served better than another consistently dull summer of Pureblood soiree's and countless dates with dim-witted, skinny, blonde Pureblooded heiress who were more than their futures of submitting to their menial task of being wives and mother's. His mother never truly enjoyed the girl's either, and only led them on advances of winning Draco's heart due to the constant pestering of their parents. The Malfoy family was, without a doubt the shinning example of a perfect Wizarding family. Blue-blooded, beautiful, Successful in every venture, and extremely wealthy. And obviously, the family was evied and constantly chastised by many hopeful familes, since the vast successes of his Grandfather Abraxus. The name, a title in all, carried the dreams and desires of any Pureblooded witch, who dreamed of a fairytale, vast popularity, social galas, and extreme power. So naturally, this drove every Pureblooded family within the society that clung onto the glittering hope that their beautiful, porcelain daughter would guaranteed the extravagancy of being tied to the Malfoy clan, through marriage to the dashing Slytherin Prince, Draco Malfoy.

Draco scoffs at the thought.

_If only the world saw things in color, rather than the black and white they tend to see. Only so many things could be hidden behind the glittering soiree's, and elf-wine._

"Draco!"

The shrill voice cuts through the bustling of the platform, and his eyes quickly found pale blue eyes cutting through the depths of his soul.

Narcissa Malfoy was beautiful. It always seemed to be the first thing people seemed to keen upon the Malfoy Matriarch. Many took the beauty as the façade it was, and created the irrational assumption that it could be all that possibly lurked there. That behind that flawless black ombre hair, the small perfect figure, porcelain skin and blue eyes was just like every other pureblooded woman.

A dim-witted, power hungry bint.

This was quite the opposite of Narcissa's character. She was exceedingly brilliant, and sharp as an arrow with absolutely everything. If it wasn't for the bark behind her bite, she could have been mistaken for a Ravenclaw all these years.

"Mother," Draco drawls, leaning forward and kissing her cheek.

"Draco, Pansy," Narciassa acknowledges the smaller black haired girl.

"Narcissa," Pansy replies, clasping hands with the older witch and giving her air kisses, the French way.

"How are you dear? And where is Elisabetta?" She questions referring to Pansy's mother.

Elisabetta Parkinson was the high classed editor of Witch Weekly, and stood another Matriarch at the height of the blueblood paradigm.

"In Paris, She owled me yesterday telling me, Father and her would be gone for the remainder of the holidays, and asked me to inquire you about staying at the Manor. I would have owled you but—"

Narcissa waves her hands dismissively "Nonesense Pansy, you know you are always welcomed at the Manor." She smiles kindly.

"Thank you Narcissa," Pansy says.

Draco sighs at the amount of arse-kissing the two were preforming at the moment, and his stomach growls with irritation. "If we're done arse-kissing mother, I'd like to return home now, I'm famished."

"I told you to get something from the trolley."

Draco scoffs aloud again "Those Pumpkin Pasties were probably as old as her breast milk."

"Don't be ridiculous darling, She doesn't have any breast milk remaining." Pansy adds quietly.

Narciassa glares slits at the two for their cruel jokes, and all side conversation ceases immediately. "As you wish," She declares leaning her arm out for Draco to ready himself for apparition.

He grabs on, and grasps hands with Pansy before the three disappear without a trace.

A moment later, they stand inside the Great Hall of the Manor, feeling a bit more nauseous than they all had before.

"DINKY!"

A second later, a small haggered house elf stands before the Malfoy Matriarch. Her large eyes bat firecly, as she keeps her head low, staring at the heel of Mother's Christan Louibtons. "Yes, Miss Narcissa?"

"Fetch Draco and his guest a snack as well as take their luggage to their respective dormitories. Oh, and fetch me some Jasmine tea. Do remember to add precisely four tablespoons of sugar," Her eyebrows quirk up.

"Just leave it on my bead, Dinky. I think I'd rather put my things away myself this time." Draco adds to his mother's commands.

"Yes Master Draco, Dinky lives to serve the Malfoy Manor," She repeats and disappear with a crack.

Draco shakes his head for a moment, running his fingers through his messy blonde tresses, and shuffles towards the hallway leading to his room. "I think I'll draw myself a bath, take a quick nap and leave you two to your own devices."

"Don't stay asleep too long, love. Severus is joining us for dinner later,"

Draco nods accordingly "Like I haven't seen enough of Uncle Severus all year."

Narcissa ignores his comment, and turns on her heels towards Pansy. "I'll be heading out to Madam Elise's for a bit, I'm in dire need of new robes for the Greengrasses all-white party next weekend. Would you be interesting in joining me Pansy?"

Pansy nods, who was she to deny a good shopping trip? It was one of the things all Pureblooded girls prided themselves in, besides outdoing every other girl, and reeling in the perfect husband. Fashionablility especially in the Parkinson house was a vital necessity, and Mister Parkinson had no issue with allowing Pansy to burn hole with her trust fun."

Dinky appeared back with a crack to hand Narcissa her tea "Dinky shall be back with Master Malfoy, his guest snacks,"

"Excellent," Narcissa says, grasping the tea cup, clutching back upon Pansy and disapperating with snap leaving Draco alone once more.

~0~

Steam billows itself inside of his room as he opened the door of his throughouly long shower. During his times at Hogwarts, he consistently regretted his unappreciation of single showers, and the absence of his too friendly dorm mates, Potter and Zabini reaching inside of his cubicle for his expensive Mint Shampoo. He also missed the many relaxing settings, and scents of his expensive shower heads that his Mother insisted be purchased, as Draco was away during his first year and allowed all the renovations of Abraxus's former home. Narcissa always had a tendency to go quite extravagant with the simplest of things. Like when Draco was nine, and his mother purchased a bright blue Draco as a pet, when all he really desired was an owl.

He wraps a white towel on his waist that slung low, just above that delicious deep v-cut that led to the most intimate of places. He strolls over to his trunk for clean robes. As he gets dressed, in comfortable dark black slacks, and a plain white shirt buttoned halfway, he finds a small vial contained of lavender liquid of a sleepless dreaming draught. He unscrews it, and raises it to his lips in the hopes of sleeping the rest of the day away.

At least that was the thought that progressed, until Dinky appeared with a crack, causing Draco to drop the vial to the hard wood floor and it to bounce (without thankfully shattering) beneath his bed.

"Merlin's tit's!"

Dinky jumps wide eyed, and thrust a tray of cheeses and cracks into the scowling Malfoy's face "D-Dinky has brought you—"

"Get the hell out, after you set it on my bed, or so help me," He hisses threating, his eyes turning into slits.

The house elf squeals setting the platter upon the luxurious comforter, and disappearing once more.

Malfoy mutters a slew of profanities at the blubbering house elf, and how she manage to ruin the only thing that could possible keep him from slaughtering everyone. Draco could be an arrogant asshole simply with sleep, but sleep deprived? Bloody hell, it was like dealing with a blood thirsty ten foot snake controlled by an evil Dark Lord.

The boy sinks to his knees to retrieve the vial, and thrusts his hand onward. Reaching around for a few moments, he feels something rub against his hand. Clasping onto it, he pulls it our, and stares at it blankly as he sits up.

A ragged, stuffed rabbit with one button eyes stares back at him. The bunny, named Mopsy, which originally was grey, looked a murky muddy brown from the constant wear from years before. The ears flopped down, instead of rising up and the left leg barely hung on by its stitching from being tugged along carelessly by her.

The bushy haired Eleven year old girl that daunted within the back of his memory reappears. The toffee eyes that glistened of joy, hope, and the happiness that arose with adolescence. The large tooth grin that revealed her buck teeth and most of the time sealed the deal to any of her whimsical requests.

"_Draco!"_;

Her voice ringing distinctively within his ears followed by a series of giggles and eventually faded into the dissonance. His eyes flutter shut for a moment as she appears within his mind.

"_Best friends forever, Draco!" She says softly and reaches her pinky forward._

His mind ran with curious thoughts as he opens his eyes. What ever happened to her? Promptly after beginning his first year, he never heard of saw from her again. It was almost like she never truly existed and was fabricated completely. He remembers distinctively, the same year when they vacated their former home which was only three house down from her Nana. Could it be possible it was where she currently stayed? After all it was her place of residence on summer holiday's and weekends.

Or had she grown out of that habit? Five years could make all the difference in the person she once was.

"Draco," Pansy cuts through his thoughts.

Nervously, he tosses 'Mopsy' beneath his bed, and turns to face her "What are you doing back so early?

Pansy drops her bags to her feet "I'm knackered,"

"Pansy" He mutters.

"You better just be saying my name, Malfoy," She warns, her boots clacking vigorously against eh floor as she plops into his bed, and pops a slice of cheese within her mouth.

"Or?"

"Or, I may hex your balls off once I'm throughouly rested." She finishes, curling into a little ball. "Wake me up in time for tea?"

"Is mother still gone?"

"Yes,"  
"I'll have Dinky come round and wake yo—wait, why are you sleeping in my room when yours is across the hall?" Draco questions.

Pansy doesn't respond, and after a few moments all that's heard is her light breathing.

"Dinky!"

The small house elf pops in front of him with a timid gaze towards the sculpted wizard. "Yes Master Malfoy?"

"Take me to South Hampton,"  
"As you wish,"

~0~

After an hour, Draco was thoroughly pissed. He couldn't find out where his old home resides, nor where the bloody fuck he was. He scattered 'round and back the community, and even asked Muggles on where to go, and no one could not understand where, nor what he was referring to. He desperately needed a cigarette for his nerves, and to make matters impossibly worse, the weathered had been acting fucking weird since he arrived. Shifting between sunny clear skies, and dark storm clouds rolling with thunder. It felt like an twelve year old witch on her period.

His stomach growled annoyingly, and he instantly regretted not reaching onto his snack tray for something to fill his empty stomach. His eyes roam, until he spots a small dinner making his stomach jump in glee. He reaches his hands within his back pocket pulls out his walled embodied with his initials in Slytherin Green. Searching within it, he grimaces at his lack of Muggles currency and curiously wonders if they accepted it. Simultaneously, the wind picks up making his wallet fly from his hands.

Muttering annoyingly he follows it, as it rushes down the side walk and around the corner. As he catches up to it, he finds a mane of toffee curls bent over towards his wallet, digging through it like a bloody scavenger.

"Oi, out of my wallet you—" He growls, until her head pops up.

Toffee eyes, meet dark steel ones making his heart thump rapidly within his chest.

_Hermione Granger, his best friend._

"H-Hermione—"

Faster than he could blink, the timid girl scattered with a short breath away from his clutches once again.

"Hermione! Wait!"


End file.
